


Getting Acquainted

by Batfink



Series: You'll Keep [1]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Companionable Snark, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Swearing, Teasing, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batfink/pseuds/Batfink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What should Batman do with a blood covered Joker, face down in the snow?  Getting a room was actually not his first thought, but that's what he ended up doing anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Too Much Damn Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or The Look on Your Face is Priceless

The Tumbler rolled effortlessly across the snow coated streets of Gotham. With stealth mode activated it passed with little more disturbance than the snowflakes that fell heavily around it, only the tracks in the snow to show it had ever been.

Batman sighed, relieved to be having a quiet night. The blizzard keeping the criminal activity to a minimum for once. He was rolling along the edge of town, headed for home when he heard the gunshot ring out. Quickly he swung the Tumbler around the corner in the direction the sound had come from, just in time to see, in the glow of the street lights a flash of red and black disappearing into the night. Harley, he thought, then frowned. Guns weren't her thing.

A figure broke from the shadows and staggered forward into the Tumbler's path. Batman slammed on the brakes, a bad idea on the snow covered side street. Even the Tumbler couldn't cope with that. It slid for a few feet, fishtailing as Batman fought to bring it under control. Finally it slid to a stop, gently bumping the figure in the road. He looked up and Batman saw the blood smeared face of the Joker.

He raised a blood coated hand and waved at Batman, grinning manically, before slumping forward over the hood of the Tumbler. The sharply angled panels of it offered no flat surface however and he slowly slid sideways off of it, falling to the road.

Batman dived out of the car and around in front of it. The Joker was flat on his back on the snow covered road. Blood leaking from the gun shot wound in his shoulder. He was giggling quietly to himself. “Oh, look.” He chuckled. “The Bat. I've had quite enough of bats for one night, thank-you. Harley saw to that.” He rolled to his side, one arm wrapped around his ribs and attempted to stand hissing in pain and getting no further than his knees before he pitched sideways, face-planting onto the snow covered road.

Batman sighed and reached down, hauling the Joker upright with a grunt. Despite his lean frame the Joker was heavy since he consisted mainly of wiry muscle. He put one arm around his waist and dragged him towards the passenger side of the Tumbler. Popping the door open, he bundled the Joker inside, before slamming the door and hurrying back around to get in on the driver's side.

His first thought was to take the Joker to the hospital, but that seemed like a bad idea. They wouldn't be able to hold him. He then thought about taking him to the police station, but he didn't want to go in there. Lastly he thought about taking him to Arkham, but he wanted to know why Harley had shot him and he didn't think he would find out if he took him to Arkham.

That meant he was going to have to do something with him himself. He didn't want to take him to the Batcave, there were too many things in there he didn't want the Joker to see, so he decided to take him to one of his hotels.

There was one in particular where he had the whole top floor reserved full time for himself and there was a service entrance he had used many times as Batman, so he knew how to turn off the surveillance. It would have to do, he thought, starting up the engine and heading off in the direction of the hotel, an unconscious Joker slumped on the seat beside him.

Batman pulled the Tumbler into the lot at the back of the hotel. He didn't like leaving it exposed, it drew far too much attention, but he hoped that no-one would connect it's location with his. He didn't want to carry the Joker further than he had too. Getting out of the car, he clicked a button on his utility belt that disabled the security cameras before he went and dragged the Joker out of the passenger side.

Hauling him up he threw him over his shoulder and crossed to the back door of the hotel. He held his electronic wrist cuff up to the security panel by the door and heard the lock click, the door popping open. Quickly he slipped inside and checking no-one was around he snuck down the corridor and into the elevator.

Once inside, he pushed the button for the penthouse and keyed in his access code. This ensured the lift went straight to his floor with no chance of it stopping on the way. When the doors opened, he carried the Joker across the small hallway and once again held his wrist cuff to the panel beside the door. Again the door popped open and he carried the Joker inside.

Crossing the room, he deposited the Joker on the sofa. Throwing off his cape and utility belt, he leaned over the Joker and shook him. “Hey, Joker. You need to wake up.”

The Joker mumbled something incoherent. Batman shook him again. “Wake-up damn it!”

The Joker growled and swatted at his hand. “Fuck off.” He mumbled, snuggling into the cushions.

Batman frowned, then slapped him. The Joker's eyes flew open and he jerked upright, howling in pain as he did so. His eyes locked onto Batman's and for a moment Batman saw panic, but it was gone in a flash as his hand dived into his coat pocket and came out with a blade.

He thrust it out towards Batman, but he was in too much pain to move quickly and Batman easily dodged, grabbing his wrist and twisting until he dropped the blade. “Stop that.” Batman growled kicking the knife under the sofa. “I'm trying to keep you alive here. You've lost a lot of blood already. If we don't fix that shoulder you'll bleed out before you can kill me.”

The Joker turned curious eyes to him. “And why would you be caring, Batsy?” He asked leaning back on the sofa.

“I want answers.” Batman informed him. “Answers only you can give me.”

The Joker laughed, laughed so much he gasped in pain, doubling over. “Why would I give you answers, Batsy?”

“Why not?” Batman asked. “You like to be unpredictable. Why not play along for a change? I'll fix you up and keep Harley from finishing the job tonight and in return, you tell me what you did to deserve it.”

The Joker visibly tried to suppress the laughter, stifling it back to a high-pitched giggle. “You're right, of course. I supposed I did deserve the beating.” He snorted. “Although, I really don't think I deserved to be shot. Especially not with my own damn gun.” He giggled again. “Is that irony?” 

He looked up at Batman who just rolled his eyes. “Come on.” Batman hauled him to his feet and half dragged, half carried him into the bathroom, setting him down on the lid of the toilet. He moved to crouch in front of him and pulled off the Joker's tie before reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “Oh Batsy.” The Joker giggle sighed. “You really should buy me dinner first.”

Batman ignored him and finished unbuttoning his shirt, when it was done, he carefully peeled the Joker's coat and shirt away from his shoulder. The material that was stuck in the wound tearing free. The Joker hissed in pain and dug the fingers on his un-shot side into Batman's arm. “It's done.” Batman said quietly as he slipped the jacket and shirt off of the Joker, tossing both to the bathroom floor.

The first thing Batman noticed were the bruises freshly blooming across the Joker's ribs, up over his chest and shoulders and down his forearms, clearly he had been using them to try to protect his ribs, or maybe since it was Harley, his manhood. Glancing away from the bruises, Batman inspected the gun shot wound in his right shoulder before looking up at the Joker. “Well at least it's only a 22, that's not so bad, but I'm going to have to dig it out of there.”

“Do what you gotta do.” The Joker shrugged his left shoulder, grimacing in pain as he did so. Batman stood and crossed to the other side of the bathroom, pulling open a drawer. First he peeled off his gloves and his razor edged arm braces, before pushing up his sleeves and un-clipping his electronic wrist cuff tossing it in the drawer. Then he lifted out some supplies and crossed back to the Joker setting everything down by the side of the sink. He lifted a syringe and a small vial.

“Uh-uh.” The Joker exclaimed. “No drugs.”

“It's harmless.” Batman replied. “Just something to numb the area.”

“No.” The Joker growled out. “No drugs. Just do, what you gotta, do.”

Batman put down the vial and the syringe. “Okay then.” He picked up a large pair of tweezers and stepped towards the Joker. He stopped at the last and turned back to the sink, plucking a wash cloth from the shelf he handed it to the Joker who twisted it up and stuck one corner in his mouth, biting down on it. As carefully as he could, Batman slid the tweezers into the Joker's shoulder and dug out the bullet. The Joker made muffled grunts around the wash cloth but kept still, even when Batman had the bullet out and doused the wound in alcohol. He continued to sit perfectly still, chewing on the wash cloth as Batman sewed up the hole in his shoulder before covering it with gauze and bandaging it up.

“That should hold you.” Batman informed him patting his arm and looking up at him. “You look frozen. Better get you warmed up before you go into shock.” He crossed the ridiculously large bathroom and started the water running in the bath. “Get over here then.” He gestured to the Joker to move when the tub was full enough.

The Joker was still sitting on the lid of the toilet, leaning over against the wall. Batman rolled his eyes and crossed back to him. He stooped and pulled off the Joker's boots and socks before hauling him to his feet. “A little co-operation would go a long way.” He sighed, leading the Joker towards the tub. The Joker giggled but shuffled his feet across the heated tile floor. When they reached the bath tub, Batman stopped and look down at the Joker's lower half. “I am so, not undressing you any further, but I'll hold you up if you do it yourself.”

The Joker chuckled but reached for the button on his purple trousers while Batman held him upright. He slipped the trousers down revealing plain black boxers. Batman had to admit he had expected something a little more out there from the Joker, then he slipped them down and Batman gasped in surprise. There on the top curve of his right butt cheek, was a tattoo of the bat symbol. A perfect little black bat inside a yellow oval. The Joker followed his line of sight until he realised what he was staring at and then he laughed, almost falling over with the pain it caused him. “Oh Batsy.” He wheezed. “The look on your face is priceless, but if I keep laughing the pain might just kill me after all.”

Batman jerked his eyes away from the tattoo and shook his head as if hoping his brain was an etch-a-sketch and he could wipe it clean. He huffed out a breath and helped the Joker into the tub.

When he was seated, Batman went to the other side of the bathroom and grabbed a few towels, he returned, tossing another wash cloth to the Joker who was currently studying the bruises on his ribs. “You're pretty much not going to be able to move come morning.” Batman remarked. The Joker shrugged again. He attempted to reach up to his hair and winced, giving up before his hand got near it. Batman sighed again. “You want me to wash it for you?” He leaned over the tub and picked up the shampoo bottle.

The Joker eyed him curiously. “Quite the little nurse maid, Batsy.” he chuckled.

Batman glared at him. “You want it washed or not?” He growled.

The Joker suppressed a laugh. “Yes.” He said quietly.

“That's what I thought.” Batman smirked squeezing shampoo onto the Jokers head, tossing the bottle aside and running his fingers through the messy green stained curls. He worked the shampoo into a lather, massaging it into the Joker's head, scraping his short nails against his scalp. The Joker moaned softly and leaned back towards him closing his eyes. Batman chuckled, lightly twisting the Joker's curls making them stick up at funny angles all over his head.

After a few moments, he plunged his hands into the water by the Joker's thigh making him jerk in surprise and then grunt in pain. Batman pulled his now shampoo free hands back out of the water and grabbed the wash cloth the Joker had left floating on the surface of the water. It was Batman's turn to jerk in surprise then. He hadn't realised that the wash cloth's position was covering the Joker's cock, which was half hard. He tried not to think about that, grabbing for the soap and rubbing it on the wash cloth. He raised it towards the Joker's face.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” The Joker growled, his hand coming up to block Batman's.

“I need to wash your face.” Batman told him.

“Why?” The Joker asked, holding Batman's wrist so that he couldn't move the cloth any closer.

“Your lip is busted and so is your eyebrow. I need to make sure they don't get infected. Your face-paint is mostly gone anyway. It's not going to make any difference.” Batman told him, pulling his arm free.

“Why do you care if it gets infected?” The Joker asked. “I'll be tucked up in Arkham by the time that happens.”

Batman sighed. “I don't know okay. It's just... it's the right thing to do.”

The Joker laughed then, pulling his knees up and leaning forward, water sloshing, gasping in pain between the cackles. “The right thing.” He wheezed out. “I'm a psychopathic criminal, the right thing to do was leave me to die on the street.” He snorted descending into a fit of giggles.

“You know I can't do that.” Batman sighed.

The Joker sat up again. “That's your problem, Batsy.” He chuckled. “Too much damn compassion.”

“Shut your face.” Batman huffed slapping the wash cloth to the Joker's face before he could stop him again and rubbing.

“Fuck, that stings.” The Joker flinched, but he didn't grab his hand this time.

When all the red and white face-paint was gone. Batman dropped the wash cloth back into the tub. “It's not too bad.” He told the Joker. “Just small cuts. Looks like your gonna have a black eye too.” The Joker shrugged feeling far more exposed without his face-paint than he did without his clothes. Batman stood and reached for the shower head. “We need to get that shampoo rinsed off, without getting your shoulder wet.”

The Joker sloshed around in the tub until he was on his knees. He leant forward resting his forearms on his thighs and leaning to the opposite side from his bandaged shoulder. Batman turned on the shower, rinsing the shampoo away, smoothing the curls down as he did so. Once the shampoo was all rinsed off he helped the Joker to stand and get out of the tub. He gave him a towel to wrap around his waist and then helped him back over to sit on the toilet lid. “Wait there.” He said. “I'll find you some clothes.” He left the bathroom.

Returning a short while later, a dark green t-shirt and black sweat pants in hand he stopped eyes going wide when he looked to the Joker. The Joker had pushed the towel down from his waist and was stroking his cock in erratic jerks. Clearly he was right handed and since that was the shoulder he had been shot in he was having to use his left, which was proving difficult, mainly due to the pain from the bruising. Batman crossed to the sink beside the toilet and set the clothes down on the side. Reaching up he opened the cabinet door and grabbed a bottle of lube squeezing some onto the palm of his hand, he rubbed his hands together and turned to the Joker, a smirk sneaking onto his face. He pushed the Joker's hand aside and replaced it with his own. “Move aside.” He chuckled.

The Joker gasped. “I don't need any help.” He hissed but he didn't try to stop him, instead fisting his hands in the towel.

“Maybe not, but you want it.” Batman chuckled stroking his hand along the Joker's cock.

“How do you figure?” The Joker almost squeaked as Batman flicked his thumb across the tip.

“Simple. You knew I wasn't going to be gone long, you would have heard me coming back, but you didn't stop.” Batman ran his nails along the vein. “My guess is you were hoping to shock me, but I've got news for you. I don't shock that easily.”

The Joker moaned as Batman increased the speed of his hand. “Guess, I'll just have to try harder then.” He gasped.

“Guess so.” Batman laughed and with a flick of his thumb and a squeeze, the Joker came. “Oh, Bats!” He groaned and Batman smirked. Catching his eye, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked some of the cum off before standing up to wash the rest from his hand. The Joker's eyes went wide before he started to laugh. “Oh, Batsy, I never knew you were so much fun.” Wetting yet another wash cloth Batman threw it to the Joker, so he could clean himself up before Batman helped him to dress.


	2. Never Tell a Crazy Woman She's Crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or How the Joker Met the Bat (a baseball bat that is)

Once dressed Batman helped the Joker through to the bedroom and sat him down on the bed, lifting his legs up and manhandling him into a half sitting, half lying position. By the time he was done he was sweating under his cowl. He reached up and pulled at one of the ears wiggling the cowl around trying to get some air underneath it.

“Why don't you take it off?” The Joker asked him.

“Because you'd recognise me.” Batman sighed releasing the ear and turning away from the bed.

“I already know who you are... Bruce.” The Joker replied.

Batman was glad he had his back to the Joker as his eyes went wide and he tensed to avoid reacting. “What makes you think my name is Bruce?” He asked walking away from the bed towards the dresser against one wall. He reached for the bottle of vodka that was sitting there and turned up two glasses.

“I make it my business to know these things, Bruce. Wayne.” The Joker giggled.

Batman sighed and poured vodka into the glasses. Lifting them he returned to the bed on the opposite side from the Joker. He handed him one of the glasses before sitting down on the bed beside him, tucking up one leg so he could lean back on the pillows as he pulled off his cowl. “I suppose it doesn't really matter.” He muttered. “It's not like you can use the information to kidnap my loved ones. They're all dead already. Plus you're far more likely to kill me as Batman.”

“That's the spirit, Batsy.” The Joker chuckled, throwing back the vodka and tossing the glass to the floor where it barely bounced on the thick bedside rug. “You know I'd never kill you though.” He grinned across at Batman. “Gotham's way more fun with you around.”

“Now who's got too much compassion.” Batman snorted before changing the subject. “So, you wanna tell me why Harley tried to kill you?” Batman asked, taking a swig from his glass of vodka.

The Joker laughed, then groaned clutching at his ribs, then laughed some more. “Bring me the rest of that vodka and I'll talk.” He hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to rein in the laughter.

Batman stood from the bed and went to get the bottle. Since the Joker had tossed his glass to the floor and Batman couldn't be bothered to get it, he just handed him the bottle.

The Joker took a swig from the bottle then stared at the label as though trying to memorise it. “She wanted us to get married.” He began. “Settle down, buy a house, get a real job she told me. Then she said she wanted kids.”

Batman gaped at him and swallowed the rest of his glass of vodka in one go. “What did you do?” He asked reaching for the bottle and re-filling his glass before handing it back.

“What do you think I did?” The Joker took another swig. “I laughed of course. I thought she was joking. The black eye was the first hint that maybe she wasn't. I threw up a little at that point.” He glanced towards Batman. “Can you imagine. ME! With kids... and a house... a white picket fence. Harley as a soccer mom? Oh God, I'm gonna throw up now!” He clapped his hand over his mouth, then removed it and swallowed some more vodka instead.

“Then what?” Batman asked.

“Then I told her she was crazy. Word to the wise, Batsy. Never tell a crazy woman she's crazy.” The Joker giggled, holding onto his ribs as Batman took the bottle from him again.

“I thought they were all crazy.” He quipped filling his glass again and handing back the bottle.

The Joker chuckled swigging some more vodka. “Ain't that the truth. Anyway, at that point she became a little more nuts than usual. Came at me with her baseball bat. Told me she had wasted the best years of her life on me. Now I may do a lot of things I shouldn't.” The Joker paused downing more vodka. “But hitting a woman ain't one of them, so while I could still stand, I ran for it. Of course since it was snowing, it wasn't that difficult for her to follow me.” He took another swig from the vodka before continuing. “She caught up to me on that street where you found me. Pulled out the gun. Told me, if I didn't marry her she would shoot me. I didn't really think she'd go through with it, but I'll be honest, I'd rather be dead that someone's husband, or father. So, I told her to shoot me, which she did and now here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.” Batman took the vodka bottle one last time from the Joker, it was almost empty once he had re-filled his glass before handing it back. “You know, that's not the kind of story I was expecting.”

“Yeah well, it's not what I was expecting either I can assure you.” The Joker laughed a little easier as the vodka took the edge off the pain.

“You think she'll change her mind?” Batman asked.

“About killing me, or about marrying me?” The Joker queried.

“Either, both.” Batman shrugged.

The latter, I think she already did. The former, maybe. The way I see it, unless I change my mind, I'd better stay out of her way.” The Joker drank another mouthful of vodka.

“Well, no offence, but I don't see it either.” Batman told him. “You, settled down and domesticated. The mind boggles at the very thought of you reproducing.”

The Joker snorted. “You wouldn't fare much better, Batsy.”

“Oh, I know.” Batman grinned swigging on his own last share of the vodka. “Believe me, I know. But hey, at least you got a woman to want that from you. That's more than I've ever managed.”

“Well, tell you what.” The Joker giggled. “I'll tell Harley you're available for the job.”

“You wouldn't dare.” Batman glowered at him.

“You know, that look is a lot less effective without the batmask.” The Joker giggled draining the last of the vodka from the bottle and tossing it to the floor beside his glass. “Now it just looks cute.”

“I, look cute?” Batman queried. “I'm not the one with the fluffy curls and the pouty lip.”

“It's not pouty.” The Joker huffed looking down and sticking his bottom lip out further, trying to see it. “It's swollen.”

“Awww, poor baby.” Batman tossed his own glass to the floor and leaned over the Joker. “Let me kiss it better for you.”

The Joker raised his eyes as Batman leaned in. “Are you drunk?” He sniggered as Batman's lips met his. Batman didn't answer, he just slipped his tongue into the Joker's willing mouth.

A few moments later, Batman pulled away from the Joker. I should go shower and get out of this get up, he gestured to the Batman suit, rolling off the bed. “You want something to eat? I can call room service.”

“What time is it?” The Joker asked.

Batman glanced at his watch which since it was a diver's watch he had kept on. “Just after one.”

“You think you'll get room service at this time of night?” The Joker asked raising his busted eyebrow.

“You do when you own the place.” Batman chuckled crossing to the phone. “You want a burger?”

The Joker nodded and Batman pushed the speaker button on the phone.

“Good Evening Mr Wayne.” A voice answered on the first ring. “How may I assist you?”

“Well, for starters Sheila. I've told you a million times to call me Bruce.” Batman smiled in the direction of the phone.

“Of course, sir.” Sheila replied. The Joker snorted a laugh, covering his mouth.

“Can you send up two orders of burgers and fries.” Batman glanced across to the Joker. “And a bottle of vodka.”

“That will be about twenty minutes, Mr Wayne.” Sheila informed him.

“Bruce.” Batman responded. “Come on babe, say it with me. Brrrruccce.”

“Bruce.” Sheila echoed.

“That's my girl.” Batman winked at the Joker.

“Will there be anything else Mr Wayne?” Sheila asked.

Batman shook his head, smiling. “No thanks Sheila. That will do fine.” He pushed the button to disconnect the phone call.

The Joker was eyeing him. “Are you sleeping with her?” He asked.

“What? No.” Batman chuckled. “I make a point of never sleeping with my staff. Good help is hard to come by.”

“I bet she'd still call you Mr Wayne even if you were.” The Joker sniggered.

“Jealous?” Batman asked crossing the room to get another pair of black sweatpants out of the drawer.

“Curious.” The Joker replied. “Trying to connect the dots between the Batman and the billionaire playboy.”

“The playboy is a front.” Batman frowned. “No-one would possibly think he could be Batman. Except you that is.”

“Well Batsy. I recognise one of my own.” The Joker giggled.

“What does that mean?” Batman asked turning back to look at the Joker.

“It means, I know a little something something, about hiding behind masks.” The Joker giggled again before waving his hand in the direction of the bathroom door. “Go. Shower. I don't want my vodka getting warm sitting in the hall waiting for you to come open the door.”

Batman shook his head but wandered off to the bathroom.

He returned just under fifteen minutes later, washed, shampooed and shaved. The black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, he was wearing nothing else. The Joker gave him the once over when he returned.

“What?” Batman asked crossing the room towards him, kneeling to pick up the glass and empty bottle the Joker had tossed to the rug.

“You went in there as Batman, but you came out as Bruce Wayne.” The Joker replied, suddenly serious. “It's not what I expected. You look smaller somehow, but that makes no sense.” The Joker tilted his head to the side and stared as Bruce rounded the bed, picked his own glass from the floor and placed it all on the dresser. He looked back at the Joker and shrugged. “Guess the imagery of the bat has more of a presence than Bruce Wayne does.”

“Perhaps.” The Joker nodded, then burst into a fit of giggles.

“What now?” Bruce sighed.

“I was just wondering.” The Joker gasped between giggles. “If you have fake muscles in your suit?” He doubled over holding his ribs.

Bruce rolled his eyes and crossed to the bed. His arm shot out and he grabbed the Joker by the hair, pulling his head back against the pillow, his arm pressed against the side of his face. “These look fake to you?” He asked, leaning over the Joker so that his chest muscles were inches from his nose.

The Joker giggled some more, not even trying to move free of his grip. Instead he grabbed one of Bruce's biceps, squeezing his fingers into the muscle. “Nope.” He giggled. “Feels real enough to me.” Then he reached down and cupped Bruce's groin. “That one feels pretty real too.” He chuckled as Bruce grunted and his cock sprang to life in the Joker's hand.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. “Room service, Mr Wayne.” A voice called out.

The Joker released his hold on Bruce. “Oh goody.” He grinned. “My vodka is here.”

Bruce growled at the distraction, using his grip on the Joker's hair to pull him up into a swift kiss before dropping him back down and going to the door.

He wheeled the tray of food into the suite and through to the bedroom where he parked it beside the bed. The Joker made a grab for the bottle of vodka, but Bruce moved it out of his reach. “Eat first.” He said handing the plate of food to the Joker. “You're all bone.”

The Joker sniggered, almost tipping his plate of food before Bruce caught it. “There's only one bone of mine you're interested in.” He smirked winking at Bruce.

Bruce ignored him, taking his own plate of food around to the other side of the bed. The bottle of vodka tucked under his arm. “Just eat will you.” He huffed plonking himself on the bed.

The Joker laughed again, but picked up his burger and tucked in. Bruce waited until the Joker was half way through his burger before uncapping the vodka and handing it over.

When they were done eating, Bruce cleared anyway the dishes, wheeling the trolley out of the bedroom, leaving the Joker with the bottle of vodka.

When he returned he was carrying his electronic wrist cuff. He flicked the light off as he crossed the room, bathing it in the glow from the snow covered city outside. “You should try to get some sleep.” He told the Joker, returning to his side of the bed and sitting down pulling up his legs fidgeting around to get comfy.

“What are you going to do?” The Joker asked still swigging vodka.

“Bat stuff.” Bruce chuckled glancing across at him, before looking back to the screen on his wrist cuff.

They sat in silence for a while. Bruce tapping away on his screen, The Joker swigging the vodka until he eventually fell asleep the bottle tucked by his side. Bruce reached over and picked it up, downing a few mouthfuls himself before setting it aside.

A few hours later, he was working on a schematic for an upgrade to the Tumbler when he felt the Joker shift beside him. He didn't look up, just kept working. He felt the Joker's hand slide onto his thigh. “What are you doing?” He asked at last as the Joker's hand slipped to the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Returning the favour.” The Joker giggled pulling on the sweatpants.

“Aren't you in pain?” Bruce asked, lifting his hips so that the Joker could slide the sweatpants down to his thighs.

“The vodka is helping numb the pain, but I'm not planning to use any injured part of myself, so it shouldn't be a problem.”

“What do you mea _nah_!” Bruce gasped as the Joker closed his lips around his cock. “Sneaky bastard.”

The Joker laughed a rumbling chuckle that vibrated Bruce's cock making him drop the wrist cuff. It rolled off the bed but Bruce ignored it, fisting one hand into the sheets and lifting the other to run his fingers through the Joker's green curls.

The Joker worked him enthusiastically, scraping his teeth down Bruce's length. “Hrck!” Bruce grunted out. “Joker!”

The Joker stopped and raised his eyes to meet Bruce's. “Jack.” He whispered against Bruce's tip.

“What?” Bruce asked.

The Joker flicked his tongue across the tip making Bruce twitch. “My name, is Jack.” He purred lowering his mouth back down.

Bruce's fingers tightened in the Joker's curls and he grunted out, “Jack!” As he came leaning over and pulling the Joker up gently so that he could smash their lips together, before helping him to roll over onto his back. Hitching his pants back up and sliding himself over so that he could tuck the Joker's head against his shoulder.

“Jack what?” He whispered his mouth pressed to the Joker's curls.

“Just Jack.” The Joker murmured.

“Like Cher?” Bruce teased.

“Yeah, just like Cher.” The Joker chuckled.

“Fair enough.” Bruce replied patting his hip with one hand while the thumb of his other hand brushed gently back and forth across one of the Joker's scarred cheeks. “Get some sleep. You're going to be in a lot of pain when the vodka wears off.”

 

When the Joker woke up, the sun was streaming in the window, glinting off the snow still falling and Bruce was nowhere to be seen. He tried to move but it was agony. Lifting his head he noticed something on the bedside table. He slowly shifted until he was able to see. A new bottle of vodka was sitting there along with a bottle of pills and a bottle of water. Next to them was a bag of chips and a bag of gummy bat sweets which made the Joker chuckle. A note was tucked under the bottle of pills.

Gingerly he reached out and grabbed it, as he pulled it into his lap a key card fell out. He ignored it and unfolded the note.

 

_Jack,_

_You really should take the pills, but the vodka is there in case you won't, plus food. Eat damn you!_

_If you call room service they will bring you real food_

_and more vodka._

_I've left you a key card in case you need to lay low for a while. I'll talk to Harley about shooting you, but I can't say I'll be able to stop her from doing it again._

_I'll be back in two days, in case you want to know._

_Bruce_

_PS, the elevator code is 740865. I'm sure you can do something with the security cameras yourself. Just don't kill anyone. I'd hate to have to put you back in Arkham when we're just getting properly acquainted._

A small drawing of a bat was in the bottom corner of the page.

The Joker giggled to himself and reached for the bottle of vodka. Two days, he thought. I can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first non-crossover Batman/Joker story and I'll admit it ended up a bit of a tease. The Joker was just too beat up for it to go any further.


End file.
